


Collection of short K/S fics

by kinky_pretzel



Category: Star Trek
Genre: AU, Angst, Character Death, Established Relationship, First Time, Humor, M/M, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 20:15:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3582486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinky_pretzel/pseuds/kinky_pretzel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These were mostly written in response to the 2009 Movie Livejournal Kink Meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dr. Pointy Ears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new Starfleet regulation dictates that every First Officer functions also as a relationship counselor. Spock gets ready to answer all the anonymous requests for advice.

**Dr Pointy Ears**

Spock sat down at his computer console and with a sigh, opened the channel set up by Dr. McCoy to where anonymous counsel requests from his fellow crew members were supposed to be sent. Seeing the title Dr. PointyEars: Anonymous Sex and Relationship Super-Logical Emotion-Free Counseling, he again marveled at the Chief Medical Officer's childish glee upon discovering the new Starfleet regulation that ordered every First Officer to provide such service, if required.

Judging from the number of incoming requests, it was required very much indeed. Focused and efficient as always, Spock set to answering the numerous messages.

 

#1

Dear Dr. PointyEars, my dearest friend, coworker and incorrigibly misguided debater,

I have several questions pertaining to the sexual nature of one of the many Federation species: Vulcans. I trust you will dutifully and truthfully answer all of them.

a) I have heard that allegedly, Vulcans experience some kind of mating cycles. Is this true?

b) If so, how long are the intervals between the mating seasons?

c) Are both males and females affected?

d) Are they capable of sexual intercourse in between the mating periods? If not, doesn't that suck?

e) Why are Vulcans so damn tight-lipped about themselves?

Looking forward to your answers,

Impatiently,

Anonymous Inquirer

 

 

_Dear Dr. McCoy,_

_as you can see, I did not shun my new responsibility and am endeavoring to respond to all queries, however obtrusive they may be._

_Ad a) Yes._

_Ad b) Sufficiently._

_Ad c) Naturally._

_Ad d) Sexual intercourse between mating periods is illogical. I fail to understand the meaning of the verb 'suck' in this context._

_Ad e) They find the insatiable curiosity of other beings fascinating._

 

_Sincerely,_

_Commander Spock_

 

 

#2

Dear Dr Ponty Ears!

My pals from teh Security dont act like my pals anymore. They make fun of me in a real mean way and thats FUCKING DRIVING ME MAD!!! Its cuz they once (like 4 years ago man) heard sombody call me fucking CUPCAKE (and I wont say who said it cuz hes a big boss now but he wasnt back then and sudenly he acts like hes so hi above us all but he FUCKING WASNT BEFORE he was a FUCKING LOSER and I didn rub it in his fais and I aint gonna ever rub it in anybodys fais NEVER would do something so FUCKING LAIM MAN!

As I was saying – hehehe more like writeing – those guise from the Security are having fun at my expance! Their calling me cupcake all the FUCKING TIME and emplying Im a FUCKING LIL PRINSESS like real ifeminit and shit theysay I am real sweeeeet and cute (compairing me to a cupcake) and that I should were a pretty lil skirt to show my pretty lil legs!!!

Please POInty Ears help me i allways liked you and I now you dont like the FUCKING BASTARD KIRK EETHER!!! THEIR! I writed it and I aint gonna erais it I dont FUCKING CARE ANMORE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

_Dear Anonymous,_

_Firstly, I am compelled to reprimand you for the direct slur against the Captain – it can be interpreted as subordination and disrespect of authority which might very well bring you to face Court Martial._

_Secondly, I have never publicly expressed either like or dislike for the Captain and it shall remain so. I would therefore appreciate if you did not insinuate otherwise._

_And thirdly, please enlighten your co-workers to the fact that a cupcake is a kind of pastry and thus incomparable to a sentient being. Identifying a person as such is simply illogical._

 

_Sincerely,_

_Commander Spock_

 

 

#3

Dear Dr. Pointy Ears,

I think I'm gay. I tried doing it with girls, but I think they are pretty disgusting. I'm afraid that my mother will be disappointed, though.

During one exploratory mission, I unlawfully appropriated several seeds of a particularly interesting plant. It was purely for academic purposes. But it was stealing!

I'm also in love with Pavel Chekov.

I never told any of this to anybody. Thank you, Pointy Ears!

 

 

_Dear Anonymous,_

_I am afraid that I have not discovered any inquiry to which I could reply in the text you sent me._

 

_Sincerely,_

_Commander Spock._

 

 

#4

 

Dear Doctor Pointy Ears,

I harbor undying love for one of my superior officers. But he doesn't even notice me! He always says that he doesn't have any emotion, but I think he does! I'm always so flustered when he comes to the part of the Enterprise I work in and so annoyed at Dr. McCoy for constantly pestering him. I don't agree with any of the mean things Dr. McCoy says.

I would like to tell this handsome and intelligent person that I love him, but I'm almost certain that my love is unrequited.

Recently, there have been rumors that he is actually involved with another of my superior officers.

Do you think I should tell him anyway?

 

 

_Dear Anonymous,_

_I strongly advise you not to, under any circumstances, confront the person of your desire with the revelation of your "undying love."_

_Please note, that individuals who practice emotional repression find such dramatic declarations highly disconcerting._

_I urge you to bury your sentiments deep inside you and never disclose them._

_NEVER DISCLOSE THEM._

 

_Sincerely,_

_Commander Spock_

 

 

#5

Dear Doctor with Pointed Ears,

I have a really troublesome problem. You see, every morning I wake up with what Americans call a hard-on. It is really troublesome. You see, because of this, every morning I have to do what Americans call jerking off. This causes me trouble because I have to report to the Bridge quite early every day. But I have to jerk off first. I should probably also tell you that I'm quite young. I want to stay in my anonymity but I'll give you a hint and say that my age ends with -teen.

Hope you can help me with my troubles!

P.S. Also, how do you tell somebody you like them without making yourself seem stupid if they don't like you back?

Hypothetical situation: There is person A who is sitting right next to person B every day and person A realizes that they really like person B and are pretty sure that person B likes them as well, but aren't sure if person B likes them only as a friend or as maybe something more. How does person A find out if person B likes them as something more without risking making an idiot out of themselves if they only like them as a friend.

This was just a hypothetical situation.

Thank you for helping me with my troubles!

 

 

_Dear Anonymous,_

_The immoderate sexual urges are, as you correctly predicted, caused predominantly by your youthfulness. As you mature, they will gradually subside. In the meantime I suggest relieving them – either by what is properly called masturbation or with the assistance of another consenting individual (see below)._

_Additionally, inferring from the data I received in one of the previous counsel requests, I am 98.72% certain that person B likes person A as "something more."_

_Sincerely,_

_Commander Spock_

 

 

#6

Dear Spock,

Are you still working? You can actually get an Ensign to help you answering all those silly questions.

Oh wait, now onto my counsel request:

Dear Dr. PointyEars,

I really enjoyed the last time with my First Officer. I would like to repeat the experience ASAP. Meaning right now. What would you suggest I do? Send him a fake counsel request maybe?

I am eagerly awaiting your solution to my problem.

 

 

Spock leaned back on his chair, processing the latest message. Then, with a slight tilt of the head, purse of his lips and a barely perceptible shrug – the Vulcan alternative of the human Oh well, to hell with it – he got up and strode off to the Captain's quarters.

This particular problem clearly required his physical presence.


	2. Poor Spock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumor has it that Kirk and Spock are an item.

"See?" Nyota nudged Christine as Spock walked by with his food tray. "He's hiding it all inside."

The two women watched intently as the ship's First Officer settled himself at a table at the far end of the Mess hall, conveniently facing them, and began to systematically eat his dinner. To an untrained eye, he may have appeared his usual neutral, unshakable self; but his observers knew better. They had good amounts of personal experience to draw from, after all, one having been involved in a romantic relationship with Spock for whole three months and the other having practiced admiring and selflessly adoring him from distance for three long years.

And she definitely wasn't about to stop now when he needed her the most. News traveled fast and everybody knew about Kirk's infamous fling with the Cardassian princess. Right behind his lover's back. Poor Spock.

"Should I go to him?" Christine asked her companion.

"No, Christine. You can't! Don't you see he's doing his utmost to suppress his feelings? You can't go poking the beehive!"

"Perhaps a few comforting words-"

"No."

Christine opened her mouth to protest but was halted by Spock who suddenly put his fork down and straightened his shoulders, at the same time lowering his head a little, moving it, minutely, from side to side.

"Did you just see that?" Nyota whispered with urgency. "He's so tense!"

"He's trying so hard to seem calm and reserved, but once in a while, we get a little glimpse." Christine said wisely.

"Just imagine the maelstrom of unbound emotions whirling under the surface!" Both women sighed in unison, imagining it. Meanwhile, Spock resumed eating.

After some time, a burly man in a red shirt unexpectedly sat down at a table in front of them, effectively blocking their view. Nyota and Christine's expressions – compassionate and impassioned, respectively – quickly turned supremely irritated.

"Hey, Cupcake!" Nyota called out roughly. "Get lost."

"But I just wanna eat my -" But seeing Lieutenant Uhura's glare and being very well aware of her fierce reputation, the man in question thought better of it and hastily cleared the field. Satisfied, the women returned to the object of their interest who seemed to have finished the salad and moved on to the soup.

But then:

"No!"

"Oh. My. God."

Captain James T. Kirk came into view and stopped at Spock's table. They exchanged a few words, unintelligible even to Nyota's trained ears and then Kirk placed his tray down so it touched corners with Spock's, drew out a chair and -

"That obnoxious bastard!"

\- sat down.

"I can't believe he's doing that, why is he doing that, why?" lamented Christine.

"Just when I was beginning to think he was finally growing up," Nyota hissed, radiating pure hatred, "he shags that woman and then comes strutting here, gloating in Spock's face ..."

"Yes, and I thought Mr. Spock would have good influence on him."

"He did. But it wasn't enough."

"What a mean man!"

"Yeah, but especially-"

"Poor Spock." Both women intoned heartfeltly.

Spock proceeded to consume his soup, while clearly being forced to react to whatever malicious words his fellow diner was hurting him with. What kind of conversation and how incredibly straining for Spock it must have been, the two women could only guess.

Then, as Kirk was saying something no doubt excrutiating, Spock stopped the spoon in mid-motion and, keeping his eyes cast down, actually frowned. Nyota and Christine exchanged looks of eternal misery.

 _"Poor Spock._ "

 

*****

"This seat taken, Spock?"

"It is not."

"Mind if I join you?"

"I do not."

"So, you know what's been bothering me?"

"I do not."

"The weird looks I've been getting ever since we got back from Cardassia Prime. Do you reckon people are just jealous I hooked up with that girl or -"

"No."

"I mean she did have kinda weird-shaped face, I wouldn't exactly call her pretty per se, but – wait, did you just say 'no'?"

"Indeed."

"Wow, you sure are chatty today."

"I apologize, Jim, I had devoted the entirety of the day to assisting in reparations of the transporter console and I seem to have developed an ache in my neck, not to mention the strain in my eyes -"

"Spock. Are you actually bitching about work? If so, I really do have a bad influence on you."

"I am merely informing you of - - -"

"Huh? Of what? Oh good god, what is that?"

"Most likely a misreplicated carrot."

"Bleh."

"Indeed."

After Spock removed the misshapen mutation from his food, they ate in silence for some time. Then Jim nudged him, saying in a low, conspirational voice: "What I said about the weird looks – see for yourself, at the table all the way back, Chapel and Uhura. Be casual."

Spock put down his spoon for the last time, pushed away the tray and lifted his eyes, looking straight across the Mess hall. Nyota and Nurse Chapel were staring back at him, intensely. He stared back. Then, he did the eyebrow thing. Caught, the two women at first widened their eyes, keeping them still fixed on Spock, then hurriedly diverted their gaze, started fidgeting, getting up from the table and nervously collecting their plates and at last, they left the hall, shooting surreptitious, yet still very obvious, glances back at him.

"What was that about?"

" ... "

"Spock, do you _know_ what that was about?"

"I may have some limited understanding of it, yes."

"Well, do you care to share it?"

"They seem to have … fallen for the rumors."

"What rumors?"

"Well, _the_ rumors."

"What _the_ rumors?"

"The rumors concerning us."

"Us? Like, me and you and Bones?"

_"No."_

"Listen, are you going to tell me or – "

"For quite a pronounced period of time, there have been rumors circulating around the Enterprise about our … romantic involvement. Had I not intercepted a digital message containing alleged details of this -"

"Hold on. Are you saying people think we are … a couple?"

"I thought you were ... aware of this. Nonetheless, our supposed involvement is no longer an issue. I infer it is now believed that our relationship was abruptly terminated by your recent affair with Princess Consuela of Cardassia."

"Ah. Aha. Yeah, that does explain everything. The weird looks, the menacing whispers behind my back ... They thought we were an item and then we broke up because I cheated on you. Well that's just crazy."

"Is it?"

"Yeah, if we were an item, I would never cheat on you."


	3. Too Hot to Handle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim finds out the drawbacks of being used to a considerably lower body temperature.

Jim would never have expected Spock to be the cuddling type. But then again, he had been wrong about Spock in the past.

For example, he had not expected Spock to start actively seeking his company - and showing up at Jim's quarters with a chessboard under his arm every single day (not that Jim complained, but honestly, Every. Single. Day.) undeniably counted as such.

Nor had Jim expected Spock to reciprocate his attraction and for a long time believed that he was merely projecting (but soon enough, all the furtive and wistful glances and fleeting touches made him rethink this).

And until about an hour ago, he definitely had not expected Spock to display such amounts of passion and desire in their first sexual encounter – but evidently, Jim thought, as they laid back down on the bed after having cleaned themselves, this was not to be the case either.

In fact, their whole relationship up to this point could be characterized as a string of situations which began by Jim making an assumption, proceeded by Spock proving this assumption wrong and ended by Jim being rather shocked, but very pleased by the unexpected turn of events.

At this very moment, it appeared that the chain of surprises would continue, judging from the fact that Spock suddenly shifted closer, which was very close indeed, pressing the length of his body against Jim's, when Jim had not expected him to want more than having their shoulders touch. Wrong again, Jim thought. Spock meanwhile finished his movement by placing a possessive arm across Jim's chest and then going quite still, clearly indicating that this was the position he intended to fall asleep in.

Jim quickly recovered from the amusement at his bed partner's snuggling action when he noted that he still felt very hot. Extremely hot that was. Sweatily, unpleasantly, almost unbearably hot.

Heated as their intercourse may have been, he definitely should have cooled down by now. Instead, he seemed to be heating up more and more. He briefly wondered whether he was running a fever and even felt his forehead with the back of his hand. This only confirmed that all parts of his body were equally hot and moist with perspiration.

Although when he focused on it, he realized that he was able to trace the epicentres of the heat: his right shoulder, actually make that his whole right arm, his right thigh, well, in fact the whole right half of his body plus the long searing stripe of skin on his chest that was covered by that scorching arm ...

Oh.

Well, that should have been obvious. No wonder he felt overheated when he was being held in a burning hug by the living heat generator himself.

Jim began to feel keen sympathy for all those poor bacteria who lived in hot springs and geysers. But then, they probably liked living there because they liked the high temperatures. He certainly did not like this. Or any other circumstances that had him deliberating whether it felt more like being baked in a furnace or bathed in lava.

But he liked Spock.

And somehow he did not suppose that rolling away from him to the farthest possible place on the bed would convey that particular sentiment ... Actually, a selfish little voice in his mind added, more like rolling away from under him, because Spock was really lying half-way on top of him and in all seriousness, who could possibly think this would be a comfortable position?

Nonetheless, the problem at hand was that Jim didn't know whether Spock gave any significance to what they did, post coitum. Maybe he didn't care that much, and the current arrangement of their bodies was just random. Albeit purposefully trying to boil somebody else's blood did not seem very - he really was thinking too much about this.

This was all because of it being the first time he was about to sleep in the same bed with him. Although sleep did not seem like a very probable result of his current condition. Melting seemed more likely. Still, he didn't want to disappoint Spock and waking him up by pushing him away would most likely qualify as such.

Supposing Spock was already asleep, of course. But his breathing was even - not to mention hot - so Jim supposed he was. Obviously there was no excessive heat bothering him.

It reminded him of one hot summer night of his childhood when the air conditioning in their house had broken and he had laid on his bed with the windows wide open, the sheet feeling all scratchy and damp under him, the air stuffy and oppressing, and he had been thinking about icicles, falling snowflakes and frozen rivers ...

And thus, thinking about icicles and avalanches and blizzards, Jim endured another couple of minutes to make sure Spock was asleep and then, at a speed of an inch per minute, slowly but surely began pulling himself from beneath Spock.

Finally, placing a safe distance between himself and the heat-radiating body, he let his head drop down on the pillow and relishing in the relative coolness of the sheets, he wiped his brow and exhaled in relief. He would not melt tonight, after all.

Still, he did not expect to freeze any time soon, either, which was exactly what happened when an even, if slightly accusatory voice, cut through the silence.

"Why have you just removed yourself from my embrace?"

"I... you – look, not that I don't like, erm, touching you, but I was getting really hot from that – temperature-wise, and I just can't sleep like that. In the heat." Jim fumbled with his explanation.

"I see." Spock said. But before Jim could congratulate himself on quickly getting the awkward moment out of the way, he added: "What I do not see, however, is why you did not simply tell me so and preferred to sneakily extricate yourself from me."

"Well I guess I didn't want to … make it seem like I didn't like it.''

"But you did not like it." Spock said coldly.

"Well I did not like the heat," Jim reacted and after a moment jokingly specified again. "Temperature-wise."

But Spock would have none of it: "I had been under the impression that communication was one of the fundamentals of a working relationship. Therefore, I do not understand why you thought it would be better not to inform me of whatever difficulties you were having."

"Well, I thought it was, well, a little too early to start communicating like this?" Jim blurted out, a little angrily, because he had made an effort.

Long silence.

Too late for that. Not too early. He should have said it was too late at night to discuss it. That would have sounded better. Not too early. What was he thinking? Too late sounds so much better. Well too late for this, too.

At last, Spock said, frostily: "I see."

And that was that.

Spock apparently had nothing more to say on the matter and so Jim spent the next few moments pondering whether he had just managed to magnificently screw up and destroy the charm of their first night together, then he inwardly berated Spock for automatically playing the offended party, then he fought amusement and disbelief at having just been seriously thinking sappy thoughts about first night charms, after which he devoted a couple more minutes to suppressing the suddenly emerging dread that this particular first time might also very well be the last, because frankly, he still didn't find out whether Spock required cuddling as an essential part of relationship - this briefly amused him again - but then, at a long last, he fell asleep, dreaming of nothing at all.

 

 

\---

 

 

When the shrill sound of the automatic alarm abruptly roused Jim from sleep, Spock had already gone. This was not unusual, since Spock seemed to take the duty hours very leniently, meaning that he never arrived on time but at least thirty minutes and most often a whole hour earlier.

He was also apparently able to set himself to awaken at any desired time, so it made sense for him to slip away silently, not needing to rely on the decidedly indiscreet alarm-clock which would have inevitably woken Jim up.

There was no need to over-analyze Spock's absence, Jim told himself, as he rubbed his eyes and blinked into the artificial lighting. He had left early simply because it was a part of his daily routine. Not because he was sulking or anything.

Reasoning along those lines, Jim got up and made a futile attempt to arrange the sheets on his side of the bed so they would resemble Spock's meticulously made-up half.

Oh no! His half and Spock's half, that did not sound too good. They had hardly started sleeping together and he was already dividing the bed. And this was not the way Spock wanted it, either. In Spock's perspective, he was the one who did the rejecting. But really, there was not much Jim could do, was there?

Supporting a healthy relationship by indulging in a not directly sexual physical contact was one thing, dying of hyperthermia another. Even so, he really needed to work on this. First of all, he would make sure Spock understood that the sole reason for Jim's reluctance to well, cuddle was his different, obviously less heat-resistant physiology. Otherwise he would be all for snuggling, nuzzling, caressing and whatnot - well, provided they maintained the general public impression of daily rejoicing in obnoxious amounts of wild sex.

And once he got that taken care of, he would make some nonchalantly reassuring comment that would shoot down the stupid stupid remark about the early state of their relationship, which, when he thought about it, maybe got to Spock more than the whole (not) cuddling part. Afterwards, all would be well.

But for the time being, Jim decided to focus on his work as there was a shuttle bay and cargo hold inspection scheduled for the day. And if Jim was resolving to focus, Spock would no doubt be so consumed in his duties that he would not even perceive Jim for the sensual, irresistible young male that he was but rather as an indeterminate human entity labeled Captain. So the Big Talk would have to wait for later.

Thus scheming, Jim arrived to the Bridge. Spock was nowhere in sight.

Jim had been so convinced he would find his First Officer working away at the science station that he simply stopped in his tracks, baffled. Surprised yet again, although this time none too pleasantly. Something must have come down.

Catching sight of him, Uhura stood up and politely briefed him on the current development:

"There has just been some minor trouble reported in the Engineering, sir. Mr. Spock went there to assess the situation."

It turned out that the 'minor trouble' was a ruptured dilithium crystal. Since the Enterprise could not afford to continue on her assignments with decreased warp core efficiency, it was necessary that they stop at the nearest Federation planet and obtain replacements. One such planet was Frigus VII, mere three hours away even at limited speed.

During the preparations for their call there, Spock displayed his usual professionalism and natural reserve. This was only to be expected but even so, Jim would have given his Advanced Tactics contest trophy for any indication of whether he was still about the events of the previous night.

Before long, the Enterprise attained the orbit of Frigus VII.

Given that this was to be a very short, quickly arranged stop on a friendly planet, the landing party consisted of only three people: Jim, because he represented the Federation; an Engineering technician, because she specialized in hypersonic elements; and Spock, because it was an unspoken rule that he participated in every beam-down on principle.

As they were taking their positions on the transporter pad, Jim unintentionally brushed Spock's arm. This earned him a raised eyebrow accompanied by an odd, lasting look, but then Spock's features dissolved in the swirl of the transportation beams.

The first thing Jim noticed when they rematerialized on the surface of Frigus VII was that it was pretty damn cold down there.

Their surroundings didn't make a particularly inviting impression either – vast planes covered in snow and ice in one direction and tall, austere buildings, all glossy shades of gray, in the other.

The welcoming party who were already approaching, on the other hand, seemed the picture of joviality. As soon as their faces became discernible, all five of them were revealed to be wearing friendly, almost enthusiastic expressions, as if trudging through the snow to meet uninvited Starfleet officers was the highlight of their day.

Well, maybe it was; unless there were casinos and music clubs hidden inside the dark constructions in the distance, this seemed like a pretty dull place.

As their hosts drew nearer, it also became apparent that they were all human, confirming the Federation Planets Compendium information that the Earth colonists largely prevailed over the indigenous population.

When the jolly group came to stand facing them, a tall, sightly woman in the middle addressed Jim.

"Captain Kirk," she greeted in Standard, smiling. The two pairs of uniformly dressed men who flanked her sides bowed their heads and flashed a toothy grin in unison. "My name is Nevicca and I serve as the local governor. We are glad to be of help during your emergency. Please follow me."

And they did, down the white, frosty lane that led to a majestic dark-marble edifice. It was a relatively short walk, but the chilling wind made it seem significantly longer. Jim made a mental note to always dress according to a planet's climate, even though they may expect to be directly admitted indoors.

He lowered his head, frowning against the freezing air.

"Cold, Captain?" Spock glanced at Jim. The smugness of his words was undermined by his tightly folded arms which were obviously failing at suppressing the constant shivers running across his warm-requiring body.

But all the same, he apparently wasn't over last night.

Jim disliked answering sarcastic rhetorical questions, so he kept his silence.

 

 

 

\---

 

 

When they finally entered the warm, ensconcing interior of the marble building, Nevicca approached Jim: "The dilithium depositories are located in the laboratory. Do you wish to supervise the preparation of the crystals?"

Jim supposed they did and so he turned to his companions: "Lieutenant Hawes, please go assist in the lab, Mr. Spock, do you, ehm, also want to go?"

That sounded a little too tentative for a Federation flagship Captain, so just to make sure everybody knew who was who, he gestured toward Spock, explaining: "This is the First Officer."

All turned to look at Spock, who opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by Nevicca, who seemed to notice him for the first time and all but exclaimed in surprise: "Oh, I see that he is a Vulcan!" She watched Spock for a moment, narrowing her eyes a bit. "Does he know that our most prominent architects are currently assisting in the development of the new Vulcan colony?" She gazed at Jim, for some reason expecting him to supply the answer in Spock's place.

Gracefully overlooking the fact that he was discussed in the third person, Spock confirmed: "I am indeed aware of this." Nevicca didn't seem to register his reply and kept staring inquiringly at Jim.

Nonplussed by her elitist conversational manners, but reluctant to violate any cultural tradition of an allied planet, Jim repeated Spock's statement to Nevicca: "Yeah, he is aware of this."

"Would he be interested in viewing this city's architecture?" she addressed Jim again, with startling eagerness.

Jim looked at Spock: "Would you be interested -"

"Yes, that would be a pleasure, governor," Spock cut him short. When Nevicca still didn't react to Spock speaking, Jim, feeling increasingly like an idiot, related Spock's agreement to her.

"Well then, let me escort you there," Nevicca tossed an invitation in Jim's direction and then instructed one of her aides: "Accompany the technician to the laboratory."

"Call us when we're ready to beam up," Jim said to Lieutenant Hawes and then briskly came into step with Spock, following Nevicca up a flight of stairs.

Standing on a spacious, elongated balcony, the freezing wind again rushing into their faces, they admired the vista of the many-steepled city. Or, more accurately, Nevicca pointed and described, still seemingly focusing her attention solely on Jim, Spock stood nearby with his hands folded behind his back, presumably listening to Nevicca's commentary and observing the indicated structures, and Jim kept glancing between the two of them, altering his expression from politely interested to apologetic and back again accordingly.

Concluding her narration, Nevicca once again directed a statement concerning Spock at Jim: "It fills me with such great sorrow that Vulcan was destroyed – because of all the lost lives, of course, but also because of the uniqueness of its climate. There are many planets like Frigus VII in this Quadrant, cold and inhospitable, but only a few were like Vulcan – so warm and welcoming."

Or more like hot and scorching, Jim thought bitterly, remembering the tactile fiasco of the previous night. He nodded to Nevicca and gave Spock a somewhat shy look and shrugged, hoping to convey his I don't know why she keeps talking to me confusion.

But Spock seemed to have already adjusted to the style of the conversation and replied, looking at the side of Nevicca's head: "You are no doubt referring to those planets that are inhabited by sentient beings. It appears that most of the Universe's populaces simply prefer the relatively colder conditions."

Way to go to make this even more uncomfortable, as if playing a mediator in the conversation between the governor and his, um, First Officer wasn't enough for Jim. He sighed and 'translated' to Nevicca:

"He says that most creatures chose the colder planets to colonize because they prefer those conditions."

But Nevicca, unlike Jim, didn't evidently care much for the content of Spock's word and said, rather unrelatedly: "My ancestors have mixed with the natives of this planet and adopted many of their traditions. However, I have always found myself drawn to different cultures. Vulcan especially."

What was this about, really?

 

Listening to Nevicca talk about her fondness for the Vulcan culture, Jim speculated about the motivation for her peculiar manners. She was clearly intending her words for Spock, but seemed to be determined to speak to him through Jim and even pretend not to hear any of Spock's replies – which were despite the snubbing still a definition of cordiality - instead she waited for Jim to relay them to her.

Perhaps the customs of this planet forbade to directly address officers of lower rank in the presence of their superiors? That sounded quite problematic. Especially because it would be quite demanding on the one in charge if there were more subordinates present. Jim didn't reckon he could play the interpreter for all his Bridge personnel. Because that would be insane, not to mention just plain silly.

Or maybe this applied only to some individuals? Perhaps she wasn't allowed to speak to more than one visitor at a time? Or more than one Earth-saving hero? More then one attractive person?

Moreover, the topic of their contorted three-way conversation precluded the possibility of her for whatever twisted reason disapproving of Spock. She spoke of Vulcans with the greatest respect and even admiration, so naturally Spock interested her, probably much more so than the ordinary human that Jim was.

So, Jim mused, let's look at this logically: She doesn't dislike him. Neither is she indifferent to him. What other possibilities are there?

Oh. Wait. Oh, no. Does she -

"Captain Kirk," Jim noticed Nevicca was addressing him. He blinked and realized he had forgotten to listen.

"Yes?"

Nevicca gave him an unprecedentedly harsh look – she evidently resented it when it was her who was being ignored – and repeated what he had missed:

"The Native Frigans have a saying: 'If the lake is frozen the fish can't meet.' Can you guess what they mean by it?"

"I, er - " Seriously, how long did it take to grab a couple of crystals? He was all set to go now, he'd had enough of freezing on this balcony and spending ages looking at the buildings which were all the same dull and grey. Except for the fact that similar dull and grey houses were presently being built on New Vulcan. So maybe he ought to be careful with adjectives.

All in all, this was just getting beyond ridiculous.

"I suspect," Spock stepped forward, when Jim didn't appear to able to elaborate, "that the symbolism of the maxim is based on the concept of the ice obstructing the fish from moving freely." He was standing rather close to Nevicca and looking straight at her.

And this time, she didn't act as if she hadn't heard him. Instead, she smiled, returning the intent look: "I'm glad we understand each other, Mr. Spock. The meaning is very plain; it says that the fish can't swim to each other when there is ice between them."

Jim shivered, once again reminded of the planet's cold climate when a particularly frosty gust of wind hit him. Also, was he correct in understanding that Nevicca was implying -

"In other words, Captain Kirk," she glared at Jim as if he was being stupid and obtrusive on purpose. "Wouldice be so kind as to let the fish share a few moments alone?" And she indicated the doorway, cuing him to leave.

...So now he was ice?

And this whole indirect business had been some kind of getting to know you the long and difficult way? Some courting ritual? And she was now asking him to leave her and Spock alone? Because they were both fish? How more awkward and preposterous could this get?

He began to keenly long to be back in Spock's burning embrace, because back then all had been hot, but also simple and secure – not at all like now, on this cold planet where he had to make a continuous effort to stop his teeth from chattering and where he was alone and worst of all, where he wasn't at all sure where he stood or with Spock or what he was supposed to do right at this moment.

But Nevicca was still ordering him to leave with her gaze and he dearly wished he had not been such a sissy last night and had just withstood the heat, because really, it wasn't that unbearable and more importantly, it would have enabled him to just smirk and tell the arrogant woman Sorry darling, but this Vulcan is taken.

Which he couldn't quite do now, could he?

So he didn't do much else than just stood there, speechless and doubtful, and waited for something to happen and end his misery.

And something did.

If Jim had been previously surprised by some of Spock's unexpected actions, then it would be right to say that what Spock did following Nevicca's demand for Jim to leave completely floored him.

Spock moved from where he was standing and walked over to Jim. He didn't meet his eyes but instead turned to stand by his side facing Nevicca:

"I apologize if I have given you the wrong impression, Governor, but I prefer the ice."

And with that, he put his arm around Jim's waist and pulled him closer, adding: "Though there are some minor … discrepancies, we do quite complement each other."

Nevicca stared at them, looking affronted for a few moments, but then she swiftly gathered herself: "I don't understand what you're talking about, I was speaking in strictly general terms."

Well, that didn't make much sense and all three of them knew it, but there were certain rules of solidarity toward the rejected admirers which were pretty much universal and Jim was still too stunned to even begin to consider gloating about getting the man. Because he did get him, right?

"I will just - ," Nevicca stuttered a little, apparently searching for an excuse, " - go see if they're making progress with the crystals."

Visibly flustered, she disappeared inside.

That left Jim and Spock alone on the balcony, still in the same position. Spock's half-embrace felt very pleasant in the cold wind, sending the much needed warmth through Jim's body.

After a moment Spock moved as to let go, but Jim quickly reacted and turning face to face with him, he wrapped his arms around Spock's lower back and intensified their contact. Spock didn't object.

"So," Jim said after a prolonged moment of relishing in the closeness of Spock's warm body, "I thought that Vulcans were rather conservative on the public displays of affection front."

"They are," Spock replied and there was a bemused undercurrent in his voice. "However, if circumstances require it, it is quite legitimate to demonstrate their ... interest in another person in a sufficiently expressive physical manner."

"Yeah? Isn't this what the innocent hand touching is for?" Jim couldn't help but ask.

"Do I understand it correctly that you would rather we merely held hands?"

"No, of course not," Jim smiled.

So all went pretty quickly back to all well and good, didn't it? Even so, there were some things that needed to be addressed:

"Sorry about last night."

"What particular occurrence of the previous night are you referring to?" Spock pushed Jim a little away from himself so as to be able to look in his eyes.

"Um – the not touching part, obviously?" Jim said, confused.

Spock ran his fingers through Jim's hair: "That is of no consequence. I ought to apologize myself for requiring something that is far from comfortable for you to provide."

Evidently Spock had been doing some thinking as well, although his sudden willingness to unconditionally forgive and forget everything was, well, unexpected. But then, Spock wasn't one to hold a grudge. Jim tried his best to show his relief.

"Really? I'm glad you're taking it so well. I didn't expect you would so easily - I mean, we can still hug, especially in generally colder conditions, like right now, because that's not, um, bad at all, actually, it feels pretty good, great, really," Jim blabbered a little until Spock interrupted him.

"I shall be looking forward to all such occasions, then," he said, but then his expression hardened somewhat. "Nonetheless, this is not the only last night's incident we need to address."

Oh, so this was going to be about the too early remark after all. Just when Jim was beginning to think that it was all back to normal ... In confirmation of his premonition, Spock elaborated: "I am of course referring to the rather puzzling comment you made concerning the 'too early' stage of our relationship. I found it quite disconcerting. Would you be so kind as to explain your motivation for uttering it?"

Spock sounded serious, so Jim tried his best to disperse any doubts he may have had about Jim's intentions.

"Oh that? Well, it was just a slip, I didn't know what I was talking about really, whatever it may have sounded like, I didn't mean it – I mean, I'm not really thinking about, um, what we have, in stages, like an early stage, a middle stage, a late stage or whatever, I'm honestly just thankful that -"

Only then did he notice that what was glinting in Spock's eyes was not worry, but amusement.

"Wait – are you -"

"Jim, it astounds me that such a sportive individual as yourself is so easily caught in a ploy that you personally informed me is identified as 'teasing'."

Jim stared at him for a minute, and then, since there was really nothing else left to do, he leant closer:

"Kiss me."

So Spock did and it was long and wet and gratifying and made them forget all about the cold wind around them and the coldness that was between them only a few moments ago -

"Ehm, hem," an uncertain voice sounded from behind them. Startled, they sprang apart. Lieutenant Hawes was standing in the doorway, looking the definition of embarrassed.

Jim imagined the embarrassment would not last too long, by dinner time, she would be most likely theatrically complaining to her friends about having to do all the hard work while the first and second in command make out on a balcony.

"Captain," she said after a prolonged moment of awkward silence, "we're ready to beam-up."

As they were getting ready to do so, Jim said to Spock in a low voice: "We've really got to do something about your irresistible urge to smooch me in public."

"Satisfy it in private, perhaps?"

"Yeah, something along those lines."

 

 

 

 


	4. Reassurance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk feels insecure about the extra pounds he's put on.

Around the third failed attempt to fasten his Starfleet uniform trousers, it occurred to Jim that maybe he should have cut down on the steaks. And french-fries. Not to mention the damn chocolate chip cookies his mother kept pushing his way.

It was a week before he and his crew – which would be mostly comprised of the old lot, but he was told to expect some fresh faces, too – were scheduled to depart from the Earth for the Enterprise's second Five year mission. The starship in question was currently docked in San Francisco, undergoing last-minute brush-ups that would ensure her continued state-of-the-art-ness.

Jim's plans for today had been to catch a transport from Iowa to California, report to the administrative powers-that-be at the Starfleet Headquarters, check on the ship, and possibly meet up with some of his friends and/or coworkers ... well, maybe there was one particular friend/coworker he was interested in a little more than any of the others.

Either way, this scenario was now being seriously challenged by the fact that he still didn't manage to button his pants.

"Oh dammit!" he commented on his lack of progress and let the uncooperative piece of clothing fall down, stepping out of it. "How did this happen?" This referring to all the extra padding around his waist he had no practical use for.

Well, he did have a theory, mostly premised on him having stayed at his mother's for the past two months and doing nothing else but lying around and taking advantage of the availability of unreplicated food. Looking at it this way, the weight gain seemed the logi – oh no, don't go there – um, natural consequence of these circumstances.

However, he did not suppose the prospect of shedding the pounds in a matter of hours was a realistic one and sooner or later, he had to get back to the HQ. So, screw the uniform, he would just have to settle for slacks.

 

*

 

As the train to San Francisco whizzed past the monotonous countryside, Jim strove to keep his thoughts in line and not wandering to places he had carefully been avoiding for the duration of his leave. Failing at it miserably once more, he revisited his contemplations on the Spock theme.

It hadn't been exactly friends with benefits – Spock was too conservative to openly agree with such a concept – but it was close. Once they had admitted that in addition to their excellent professional and friendly relations, there was also a mutual attraction, there was no reason not to occasionally provide sexual gratification for each other. And if 'occasionally' transmuted through 'pretty often' into 'almost every night', then why the hell not, they were consenting adults.

The most important thing was, the sex only agreement worked like a charm. There were no Where are we, really? discussions, no plans for the future, no reproaches, no demands, no obligations. A win-win situation.

But as the end of the Enterprise's Five year mission began to loom, Jim found himself growing nervous. For Spock's sake, naturally, he was the one prone to develop an attachment, or perhaps even a full-blown commitment. What would it be like for him when they were no longer governed by the Enterprise's needs? What would happen to their needs? Even to Jim, the prospect of not being locked up in a starship with Spock for the majority of time seemed bleak. He worried about the evolution of their not-relationship.

They needed to talk about it, only Jim wasn't sure how. He kept thinking about bringing it up and then mollifying himself with the notion that there was still time. When that excuse couldn't stand anymore, Jim began to speculate whether Spock perhaps took it for granted they would carry on in this ... arrangement on Earth the same way they did in Space.

But then, one day, quite out of the blue, Spock approached him, all business-like, and instead of hearing a report on the Enterprise's current assignment as he expected, Jim was doused with the following:

"As soon as the administrative matters are dealt with at the Headquarters, I shall depart to New Vulcan. I have promised to assist in some of their rebuilding endeavors there and also intend to re-establish my connection with the Vulcan principles. Provided the Enterprise is indeed commissioned for another expedition, I would of course be interested in returning."

Jim just stared at him and then blinked, hurriedly reacting: "Great. Great. So – I guess I'll look forward to seeing you, um, whenever I do. Back in San Francisco, right? Well I hope everything goes well on New Vulcan. And um, good luck, I suppose."

So he had finally found out where he stood, Jim reminisced, looking at the blur of landscape behind the train window. But it sure hadn't seemed like a win, had it?

And on top of disillusioned and rejected, he was now also fat and this whole thing magnificently sucked.

 

*

 

When he arrived to San Francisco, Jim went to report to Starfleet Command and, finding that there was not much else he could do there, register at the accommodation facility.

And since it was now past noon and it wasn't like he was all of a sudden going on a hunger strike, he headed down to one of the Headquarters canteens for something low-calorie.

Enduring the gazes of those diners who recognized him but didn't know him well enough to do much more than stare, he dropped his travel bag in one of the empty booths, walked over to the greens table and frowned on the rich, but still largely unappetizing selection. How anyone could live on this and still maintain a positive outlook on the Universe and life in general escaped him.

Well, Spock, for a example, got by with this sustenance just fine. But then, he had made a conscious choice.

Jim reached for an avocado.

Because Spock, of course, with his thin frame, didn't face the problem of being forced to take such desperate measures.

From there, Jim proceeded to wonder whether this was caused by Spock's different physiology or by his temperate eating habits. Jim realized he had never seen Spock eat anything but tastelessly looking plant things, suspiciously multi-colored soups or a combination thereof. But he had also never seen a Vulcan who wasn't tall and lean.

But then again, he had never seen a Vulcan who didn't wear the uniform bowl cut or the trademark neutral-but-actually-kinda-condescending expression. And that was hardly a matter of genetics.

Well, it was a conundrum, Jim pondered, still absently holding the avocado.

So he did drop it, when an all too familiar voice wished him a good afternoon from behind his back.

"Oh hello, Spock," Jim tried his best to recover from the shock, "fancy seeing you here." He made to pick the avocado up from the floor, but Spock was faster:

"Your nourishment pattern appears to have undergone drastic changes," he said, handing it back to Jim.

"Yeah, I thought I was gonna go for something low-fat for a change." Jim explained, earning himself a raised eyebrow.

"And yet, from the multitudes of fruits available on this planet you have selected the one which contains the highest level of fat."

"... I thought it was a vegetable." Jim said feebly. "I really do make some bad dietary choices."

"Perhaps they are required to balance your excellent choices as regards other … necessities." Spock made something of a suppressed shrugging shoulder move and started listing many of the fruit's benefits and then smoothly invited himself to join Jim for lunch.

The conversation that ensued was polite and easy-flowing; Spock talked about the growing colony, describing the incredible progress the Vulcans had made in the course of the past five years. Jim didn't have anything so interesting to mention, so he just kept asking additional questions or encouraging Spock ahead in the Really? Mmm? Sounds great! kind of way.

So it was not awkward at all.

Jim honestly tried to keep up with Spock's incessant information supply, but since he had visited New Vulcan only once and only very briefly, he didn't have much to draw from. So he just observed Spock, trying to pinpoint what it was that seemed changed about him. Well, obviously it was the slightly longer hair, but something more substantial as well, perhaps something about his attitude?

As soon as Spock finished his soup – and long after Jim was done with the flavorless buttery fruit – the presumed change was accentuated by Spock's sudden non-sequitur:

"Have you already acquired your temporary quarters?"

Jim nodded in confirmation.

"I suggest we go inspect it."

 

*

 

On the way to the Starfleet officers lodgings, Jim, feeling painfully self-conscious, tried his best to keep his belly sucked in and somehow adjust his posture to be more flattering - and naturally achieved only drawing Spock's attention.

"Are you quite alright, Jim?" he stopped, regarding him.

Time for the pathetic confession. "Um, yeah," Jim took a breath and continued, "well, I kinda put on a little weight and I was hoping that maybe you wouldn't notice?"

"Do I appear blind to you?"

Well, that was pretty mean.

Spock indicated that they resume their walking and then evidently felt the need brief Jim on the inevitability of genetic predisposition and the slowing down of metabolism. It made Jim feel even more miserable, because judging from Spock's resoluteness as to their destination, it looked like he was in for some epic pity sex.

"After all, you are thirty years old." Spock finished his lecture, as they arrived to the door of Jim's designated quarters.

"Is this supposed to make me feel better?" Jim asked with some sarcasm, punching in the code.

"Not necessarily. These were merely basic facts whose purpose is to inform and educate, not please."

They entered the spacious room; Jim threw his bag in the corner and then just stood there, nonplussed.

Spock put down his duffel bag, took off his uniform jacket, hanged it on a chair and matter-of-factly moved to stand directly in front of him. Jim could feel the heat coming from Spock's body, so close to his own. Spock simply gazed at him unfathomably for a moment and then placed his hands on Jim's shoulders.

It was the first time they made physical contact and it sent electric currents down Jim's skin.

Spock leaned to Jim's ear and said, in a low voice: "I shall presently endeavor to deliver what you seek."

Detecting Spock's husky undertone, some remnants of Jim's default cheeky confidence automatically kicked in:

"And what do you think I seek, Spock?"

"Reassurance." Spock whispered, dropping his hands down to Jim's waist.

Spock acted with such a clear sense of purpose that had Jim once again wondering whether he was just imagining it or Spock's sojourn on New Vulcan made him somewhat different from the Spock he had known before.

But then their mouths locked together and their tongues met, eager and sloppy.

Continuing to kiss him, Spock backed Jim toward the bed and they lowered themselves down on it.

Both were already breathing hard and there was a hot hand on Jim's thigh and he felt the blood rushing downward, relieving his mind of all doubt and insecurity, because they were now back at it like before, and it didn't really matter what Spock's motivation was, impatient, Jim seized Spock's hand, intending to -

But then Spock abruptly broke their embrace, drew away and instructed: "Remove your clothes."

Definitely different from before.

Jim stared at Spock, who seemed suddenly so distant, exhilaration fading away.

Clearly inferring that he needed to set an example, Spock stood up and began methodically undressing, only the green blush in his cheeks giving away the purpose. Once he had made a neat pile on the chair, he looked at Jim expectantly. This did kind of kill the magic.

Painstakingly, Jim started removing his socks.

"I see you require my assistance," Spock evaluated the situation, way too composed for his nakedness.

He sat back down, his bare thigh touching Jim's, and reached to undo Jim's slacks. Jim suppressed the urge to move forward, instead letting Spock do as he liked, and as slowly as he wanted to.

What Spock liked next was sneak his hands underneath Jim's shirt, tentatively feeling the pliant flesh there. He caressed and squeezed it and then hitched the shirt all the way up and – Jim hesitated briefly and then took it from him and quickly pulled it off completely.

That exposed to the crisp daylight all Jim's newly acquired flab, something Spock hadn't most likely expected to find on his lover's body when they reunited.

As if sensing his uncertainty, Spock assessed Jim's exposed torso with his eyes: "Do not concern yourself, Jim, I find your altered body shape rather appealing."

To prove his words, he returned his attentive hands back to Jim's softened stomach, fondling it some more, Jim turned toward him and found his mouth again, thrusting his tongue inside, at the same time tracing his hand up the inner side of Spock's thigh.

They moaned, and Jim quickly fumbled with his underwear and pants, kicking them off, then scrambled fully on the bed, breathing heavily again, Spock slid up on him and licked and nibbled his neck, they were both hard against each other now, the lust and desire building up -

Jim was going to say they didn't have any lubricant, but it just came out as a groan -

"Not … necessary," Spock rasped and he was probably right, they were close to climax just grinding against each, Spock bit at the skin above Jim's collarbone and then grabbed Jim around his midsection and rolled him on top of himself -

"When I said … rather appealing … what I meant was – aaah – greatly arousing," Spock breathed raggedly, digging his nails into Jim's love handles and pushing him down -

They continued at it some moreand then there was the tingling and the shuddering and it was over. 

Afterwards, they lay together, drowsy and silent. Jim was on his side, Spock holding him in a loose embrace from behind, his fingers drawing lazy circles

on Jim's stomach, occasionally pressing down, massaging it, as if he couldn't get enough of it.

Which, by all appearances, was probably true.

But even so:

"Sorry about being so whiny before."

"I did not interpret your behavior as whiny," Spock told him after a moment.

"Well, that's that impression I made on myself ... anyway ... thank you," Jim said and then added, "for the reassurance."

Spock was silent for a while again and then lazily brought his face closer to Jim's. "Has it occurred to you that I might have enjoyed giving as you did

receiving?"

The openness stunned Jim a little so he didn't find anything more constructive to reply than: "Mmm."

So this was it, their … relationship was renewed and going strong, although the exact terms still weren't quite clear, but maybe they would never be.

Nonetheless Spock had other aces up his sleeve:

"During my stay on New Vulcan," he said unexpectedly, "I have resolved not to deprive myself of your presence for such a profound period of time ever again. It was a most unpleasant experience."

Jim smiled: "Yeah, I missed you too."


	5. The Mind Meld

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sex with Spock can get pretty intense.

Spock sometimes had the wildest ideas.

Like directing a tiny ship full of red matter into a massive mining vessel while having no idea whatsoever whether he will be beamed away in time.

Or suddenly throwing a fit in the middle of a game of chess, telling Jim in terse, forcibly calm sentences that he couldn't take it anymore, or to be exact, could not withstand it – it meaning the untameable lust he apparently felt for Jim and could no longer suppress – and that he would request a transfer and bury his, and quote again, "insatiable, abhorrent, bestial passion", deep inside him; and when Jim told him that it was OK, he had the hots for him, too, Spock just stared at him and then did something that didn't really qualify as a wild idea – after both of their confessions, immediate sexual intercourse seemed only logical – but directly led to one.

Or at least to Jim, reaching for meld points right when Jim was thrusting into him in a way that would definitely have a painful aftermath seemed like a pretty wild thing to do. Not to mention that Jim's brain was working only on minimal power right now, about as much as to keep him living and breathing - and seeing and smelling and touching and feeling, and oh god, still tasting - since most of his blood seemed to be needed elsewhere.

But then Spock's burning hot fingertips found the proper spots on his cheek, temple and forehead and -

Jim's mind simply blacked out for a minute, from suddenly being filled up to bursting with another presence, his body kept going on autopilot, but he had to struggle to bring himself back to consciousness against the oppressive otherness, to reassure himself of his continued existence as an individual.

Although he wasn't much of an individual when there were two of them, was he? He clumsily gathered the shards of his shattered sense of self, fought the urge to back off and huddle in on himself and then went to meet the intruder.

He was prepared to challenge him, to fight him, to set the boundaries between them straight, so he was completely caught by surprise when a vast sense of apology and plea and submission enveloped him.

_Jim, forgive me, I did not realize, do as you like, I will not force you._

The abrupt change from forceful to gentle, from confident to doubtful, from breaking to broken momentarily disoriented him again, but soon he found his bearings and dived deeper into himself and into the other, looking for something concrete to hold onto.

Feeling the honesty, the infinite self-recrimination, the love in the sentiment that echoed through him, not invading, but ensconcing, soothing, made him almost desperately want to return it, but he didn't know how, he was not the master of the delicate workings of his own thoughts, he wasn't focused enough, he never was.

So instead he conveyed the feeling physically: he eased the pressure of his fingers and caressed the bruises he had left on Spock's hips, he slowed down his movements – and he sensed the astonishment of the other and oh so much affection again, he thought it was maybe too much too soon too fast …

But then he felt Spock's mind drawing away from his own as the long fingers slowly drew away from his face, and it was such a great sense of loss, but also of renewed self-hood – Jim wasn't sure which was worse, being occupied by the other, sharing every thought, good or bad, or being left alone, independent, but empty and longing.

Soon he stopped thinking altogether, coming to a climax, and he didn't notice whether Spock did or didn't or had already, he was too preoccupied with himself and he had a good reason, because this was just too much too soon too fast and Jim was completely overwhelmed by it, wishing for relief, but all the same regretting that it was over, the last tingles of excitement, the last remnants of the other thoughts fading away from his mind and body.

"What the hell was all this?" he asked Spock, some time later, when they lay on the floor, curled together, spent and worn-out.

"This was the beginning."

 

 


	6. Fine Vulcan Poetry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk and Spock discover that they have become the subject of a poem.

"Spock? Could you come here for a moment?"

Spock put down the shears and turned away from the potted plant he had been pruning.

Jim was sitting behind his desk, staring at the computer screen, brows slightly furrowed, expression disbelieving.

"What is it?" Spock asked as he moved to stand behind him.

"Well apparently there's some Vulcans who started writing poetry in the style of some classic poet Keh … Kresh-"

"Kh'reth. A renowned poet of the ancient times, famous for his love poems." Spock demonstrated the fact that his encyclopaedic knowledge encompassed subjects far beyond rational science.

"Yeah, well the thing is, they are now writing new poems in the old style-"

"Only logical. In the light of the necessity to rebuild the Vulcan culture, it is beneficial to reinvigorate and recreate the old traditions."

"Sure. But would you just look at this with me? It's supposed to be a Standard translation of some of the new stuff."

With interest, Spock leant over Jim to get a better view of the screen. Jim joined with him on the silent reading, hoping that maybe he had somehow … misread the whole thing the first time.

 

_The Unforeseen Amalgamation of Two Contradictory Elements_

 

_The probability of their amorous liaison appeared statistically inconceivable,_

_as unlikely as two identical quarks occupying the same quantum state._

_But the exclusion principle is discredited and the impossible seems so believable,_

_when seeing this most appealing interracial homosexual couple of late._

 

At this precise moment, as if on cue, both readers briefly exchanged a look, Jim's was still incredulous, Spock's somewhat mildly intrigued. Then they returned their attention to the text.

 

_The first one was reckless as a volatile combustible, prone to rule-bending,_

_displaying self-destructive tendencies, he had been guilty of many unwise deeds._

_But preventing the annihilation of humanity rectified his standing,_

_and earned him so deservedly the position of the youngest Captain in Starfleet._

_The other was as incommensurable as a sentient being incommensurable can be,_

_locked in the ivory tower of science, valuing emotional repression._

_But confronting several life-threatening, stress-inducing situations forced him to see_

_that it was sometimes conducive to grant his feelings the freedom of expression._

_Thus akin to two complementary DNA structures joining in the process of genetic recombination,_

_these two so divergent, yet so convergent individuals urge all known galaxies to applaud their bond's formation._

 

And that was the end of the poem. Jim continued to hypnotize it, until he noticed the name of the translator, written in a smaller font size. Nyota Uhura. This did not really help matters.

"Well." Spock broke the meditative silence at last.

"Do you suppose it's the translation that makes it seem like -" Jim tried to grasp at straws, glancing at Spock.

"I do not believe the translation to be at fault."

"So um, just to make sure we both understand it the same way … It is about us, isn't it?"

"Yes," Spock confirmed.

"But how do they even, how do they even … I mean, doesn't that seriously freak you out?"

Spock nodded.

"Yes, it does indeed. It is truly a masterpiece."


	7. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for character death.

The attackers had ambushed them. It was an unfair fight from the beginning: they were outnumbered and the enemy weapons were set to kill. Still, they somehow managed to find cover in the rocky terrain and stand their ground. They had stunned all but one of them and when this last one aimed his gun at Spock who was recovering from the blow he had received into his shoulder and did not have enough time to react, Jim blasted the weapon from the enemy's hand with one shot and took him down with another.

Shuddering slightly from the adrenaline of the battle, Jim walked over to Spock and helped him back to his feet.

"Are you alright? That doesn't look too -"

All of a sudden, there was a whish of a laser weapon, loud and piercing in its unexpectedness. Jim looked confused for a moment, looking at Spock with wide open eyes, but then his knees buckled an he fell to the ground.

Spock looked around frantically, searching for the source of the attack. He spotted movement ahead of them, one of the enemies was extending his weapon, aiming at Spock this time. He must have been only pretending to be stunned, thoughts flashed through Spock's mind, or did he just wake up from from a bad stun shot? But Spock was already firing his phaser at him, stunning him properly this time.

Then he glanced over the others, ascertaining that they were all unconscious. Wasting no more time, he dropped quickly down to Jim, completely ignoring the burning pain in his shoulder. His heart beating faster than ever, he silently observed the dark red blood which was soaking through Jim's shirt on his back. Spock's hands shook a little when he seized Jim's arms, carefully lifted the upper part of his body and turned him to examine his chest.

The darkest of Spock's hidden fears became reality when he saw the extent of the wound. The laser ray had penetrated all the way through Jim's body, lacerating his lungs and most likely affecting the veins and arteries as well. There was no spurting blood, but there was blood, lots of it, everywhere, and more and more was coming. It was all over Jim and on Spock's hands and pooling on the dusty ground.

Except that it was not real because it could not have been really happening.

It was like a dream, all existence became foggy and distant, as if the view was out of focus and there was a low persistent hum coming from deep within the abysses of nothingness. Spock watched himself automatically go through the possibilities – it was simple: there were none. The communicators had been taken from them and they were alone in the waste land, with no one around to help.

But there was no help needed because it was not happening.

And if it was ... it was over. Everything. The Universe had collapsed in on itself and Spock was caught in a strange hazy limbo that made him relive his worst nightmares. He felt worn-out and numb and only kept wishing that he could just be rescued from there, from all of it, not to have to think about anything anymore to forget and -

Forcefully, he roused himself from the dazedness. Jim was dying and that was a fact. But now he was still alive, shivering and twitching, a trickle of blood coming from his mouth.

"Jim," Spock said, wincing at the rasping sound of his own voice. But it brought him fully back to reality.

Jim's half-closed eyelids quivered, but he didn't open them. There was only one thing left for Spock to do. The last duty. He brought his shaking fingers to Jim's temple, smearing it with red blood, and -

Chaos enveloped him. Impressions and memories, images and sounds, tastes and feelings, sensations and perceptions, shouts and whispers, they all rushed around him, all convoluted and impossibly accelerated. They were all intangible in their momentariness, appearing and disappearing, fleeting and evanescent – but a common thread ran through them, a sense of ultimate urgency This is the end This is the end This is the end they sang.

Spock wanted to stay and absorb all of them, save them, keep them, cherish them – but no, this was not his purpose. With great effort he tore away from their center and forced himself to disregard them, to forget them, not to let them conceal what he had come to find. But he could not find it.

Was it too late? No, no, please no. Let it not be too late, this is the last thing, the last wish, the last mission.

Suddenly, the curtain of illusions opened and another consciousness reached out for him.

 _Spock. This is the end. There was so much and now it's gone. So much to do and never to be done._ Calm and composed.

Spock immediately lost all the resolve with which he had entered and gave in to his heart's desire. No, do not go, wait, a little longer, please, a little longer! He tried to grasp at him, halt him, restrain him – but all in vain.

_This is the end. For me. Not for you. You know what you need to do._

_NO! Please wait, a little longer a little longer. Let me go with you, t'hy'la, I will try -_

_No. You understand. I have always loved you and always will._ Spock felt the other consciousness drifting away from him, ever so slowly, but growing more and more unreachable with every passing moment. The most precious moments in his life. The anxiety in him rose.

_No! I want to -_

But then Jim moved over the edge of the precipice and he was gone, gone beyond, to where he could no longer reach him. There was a searing stab of pain as the bond broke and the pain built up and reverberated all throughout his own mind, whirled in circles and each was a bit more unbearable than the previous one and it reached the absolute peak of bearability and went a little over it – and then … all dissolved in darkness.

And the rest was silence.

 

*

 

When he awoke the world was impossibly crisp and loud around him, his eyes wet and stinging, every grain of sand jutting into his back, every single muscle aching, the pain in his shoulder reminding him of the wound he had sustained, his mind active and alert.

So very much alive.

And he was lying next to the cold rigid body of his … everything. It was dusk and the stars in the sky above were bright, silently watching the Universe around them, as they always did, all the joy and happiness, all the sorrow and desperation. They were so distant and unreachable, but even so, they were there and always would be.

So tonight the stars watched as Spock cleaned the dried blood from the face of his t'hy'la, took the dead body in his arms and carried it away, away from the place that would haunt him forever.

 


	8. Parallel Universes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five universes in which K/S did not happen and the one in which it did.

**#1**

' **JUST FRIENDS ??? YEAH RIGHT.** ' the big title on the cover of the archaic glossy-paper magazine read. It had been slipped under the door to his quarters and was still lying on the floor, all innocence and nonchalance. Spock was looking down at it, wondering at the folly of making the title letters take up almost the whole upper half of the page.

He picked it up, deciding he might as well examine this last human traditional magazine, the only one left of the thousands who had completely transferred to electronic versions. This one apparently still had enough devoted readership who were willing to buy the expensive printed copy and keep it circulating in the old-fashioned way. He was intrigued by what its contents were that they merited such unswerving support.

Well, and he was also intrigued by the photograph underneath the title which pictured himself and Captain Kirk regarding each other. This naturally explained why a member of the crew thought it fit to deliver it to him, Spock mused, although he still did not understand why they did not simply do it in person and preferred to cram it into the tiny gap between the sliding door and the floor.

Spock sat behind his desk with the magazine, resolved to subject it to closer scrutiny. Beneath the photo there was written in a smaller font: _Starfleet Captain KIRK (35) and First Officer SPOCK (35) exchange one of their infamous strictly heterosexual LOOKS. Come on boys, get out of the closet already! Read more on page 6._

Bewildered, Spock did as he was told and set to reading the suggested article.

_They may be renowned for the brave feats they keep accomplishing left and right during their missions for the Federation, but there is only one thing that REALLY interests us, isn't there. What wouldn't we give to be inside the U.S.S. Enterprise and see for ourselves what the TRUE _RELATIONSHIP between James T. Kirk and S'chn T'gai (read 'see change team gay') Spock is!__

_Because we all have seen the numerous SEXUALLY CHARGED glances they cannot help but give each other even during official ceremonies. We all have seen the numerous FLEETING TOUCHES, haven't we? And why do they always stand SO CLOSE together? Leaning toward each other? Can't they get enough?_

_Well wouldn't you just like to know? Wouldn't you just like to put an end to all the speculations and know for sure? Guess what! WE ALREADY KNOW and are eager to share our findings with you. We bring you this EXCLUSIVE FIRST-HAND INFORMATION from an insider of the starship Enterprise who wishes to remain anonymous._

_"Long story short, yeah, it's all true. They are f--king," the kind Anonymous informs us in laconic words and then elaborates: "Like at work we see that they just can't keep their hands off each other. Especially Kirk. He keeps just grabbing Spock or brushing against him. And Spock totally lets him. And you know Vulcans don't like physical contact."_

_Unless it's with your sensuous human LOVER, right, Spock? But wait, that's not all our reliable source tells us:_

_"And off-duty they just spend all the time in one of their quarters. Like seriously all the time. So I think it's pretty obvious what they do in there. It's common knowledge to everyone onboard that they are shagging like bunnies and it's really become a kind of a running joke."_

Spock quirked his eyebrow in disbelief and irritation, but nonetheless finished the last paragraph.  
 _  
So, try as they might, it seems like the appearance of JUST FRIENDS just won't work for these_ _two, will it? Maybe that's because it's all PRETENSE AND LIES. And WE KNOW. And now YOU know, too. EVERYBODY KNOWS! So why do you keep on playing this farce, boys? We LIKE IT when HOT MEN have lots of HOT SEX and admit to it! Just do us a favor and OUT YOURSELVES before it gets embarrassing._

Well, that was … enlightening. Spock shook his head slightly at the utter misguidedness of the short text. The author seemed to try to persuade the readers that they had a real account of his and Captain Kirk's relationship. Spock sincerely doubted that any of the crew members would actually give them such an interview about their superior officers – firstly, they were deep in Space and only sparsely stopping at Federation outposts or civilized planets, and secondly, the implication – that they engaged in sexual intercourse on a regular basis – was laughably incorrect.

Or 87.9 % incorrect. They had engaged in sexual intercourse once. It had been a most regrettable action as it simply did not work. Neither of them had any desire to reprise the unsatisfactory experience and so they agreed on simply continuing their friendship, pretending it had never happened. And good friends they were. But nothing more.

Of course they spent a considerable amount of time together – that was only logical since they were the two highest in Command on the Enterprise. And as for the touching… It was Captain Kirk's natural inclination to establish tactile contact with everything and everyone in his vicinity and was certainly not limited to Spock. Concerning the 'looks', Spock was at a loss as to what this referred to. He suspected that it was simply a case of 'seeing what you want to see' which he had discovered was evidently inherent to humans.

All in all, Spock at least broadened his knowledge by learning what type of information interested Earth's people the most. Misinterpreted half-truths, sensational exaggerations and illogical conjectures. Fascinating. _  
_

**#2**

"Kirk! Spock! Stop it!" the little girl with ponytails bent down to the cage and gave it a shake. But the enraged guinea pigs inside didn't seem to notice. They kept running around and squeaking, occasionally launching an attack at each other. The shavings were flying around them, the water bottle they had bitten through was dripping, the little wooden house overturned and pissed on and hay scattered all over the place.

"Alright, that's it. The damn gerbils are out of here," the girl's father stepped into the room, taking charge of the situation. The 'gerbils' in question nonetheless continued wreaking havoc in their own little rodent way, happily oblivious to the threat.

" _Noooo_ , Daddy!" the girl whined theatrically. "They just need to get used to each other."

At that, the beige guinea pig started chattering its teeth ominously. The man approached the cage and frowned at the pets in undisguised disgust.

"They smell."

"No, that's not _trueee_ ," the girl looked affronted. "I will change their bedding, I change it every week."

The man just shook his head.

"It teaches me responsibility." the girl pointed out reasonably.

Meanwhile the beige guinea pig butted its head into the black one which in turn grumbled and attempted to mount its adversary and bite its ear. Another skirmish ensued.

"We should have bought just one," the man said, frowning at the contending rodents. "Pick one, I'll just go return the other. The woman in the pet shop lied to us anyway when she said they wouldn't fight."

"No, Daddy, _pleeease_ , I want both."

"Well, they're just gonna kill each other if we keep them together," the man resisted."Let's keep this one," he pointed to the beige pig, "the red eyes are cool."

The little girl considered her options for a while and then she simply opened the cage, reached inside and unceremoniously grabbed the black guinea pig before it could realize what was happening. She stood up, holding it in both hands and lifted it up close to her father's face.

"Look how cute he is. We can't just give him away."

Black beady eyes looked back at him. The animal twitched its whiskers and sniffed at him with its little nostrils.

"Alright, alright. We'll keep them both," the man not unexpectedly gave in to the pleas of his little girl. "But we'll get another cage."

"Thank you, Daddy," she said and when her father bent down to her, she kissed his cheek.

Thus the next day, just as the beige and black guinea pigs were enjoying a quite moment of grooming each other's fur and purring in satisfaction, a dark shadow loomed over them and a rough big hand descended on the beige one. It gave a shriek of alarm and scurried away - but since the space it could move on was rather limited, it was eventually caught and carried across the room to a brand new cage that would be occupied by it alone.

So, no more close interaction for these two little guys.

 

**#3**

When Spock finally arrived to her Starfleet dormitory, it was already long past curfew. The door whooshed open and she quickly reached for the control panel inside, switching off the automatic lights so as not to wake her roommate. As quietly as she could, she took out her datapad from its case and plugged a back-up drive into it. Late as it was, she had no intention to risk losing any files she had recorded during the daylong research. She began to undress, careful not to produce any sound.

By that time, however, her eyes had already adjusted to the darkness. So she realized that all the precautions against disturbing Jamie had been unnecessary, seeing as her bed was still made-up and very much empty.

Although not entirely unexpected, the absence of her friend was still somewhat … disenchanting. She had hoped that perhaps Jamie would – would what? Stay up late into the night so Spock could share her today's scientific discoveries with her? That would have been illogical. Jamie was a very sociable creature and she was at liberty to do anything she liked with her time and it was not rightful of Spock to have unrealizable expectations.

She finished undressing and went to take a shower, hoping that the flow of water would purge her of all the unwished-for emotions of disappointment and frustration. Realistically, though, she did not believe she would succeed in this effort.

She had just slipped under the sheets, prepared to make herself sink into 200 minutes of sleep despite all the persistent discomfiting thoughts, when the dormitory door slid open for the second time that night and a dark outline of a hand snaked inside, feeling the wall for the light control panel. But the perceptive sensors picked out the movement and started to gradually brighten the room – until Jamie hit the correct button and all was submerged in darkness again.

Spock lay still and watched the dark figure tiptoe across the room and -

"Ow!"

\- collide with a chair. Jamie cursed under her breath, outstretched her arms to prevent butting into any other objects and slowly made her way toward the bathroom.

"I am awake," Spock announced into the silence.

Jamie stopped in her tracks, turning in the direction of the voice. "Oh, are you having fun then? Watching me fumble around like an idiot? _Lights!_ " There was genuine irritation in both her tone and, as soon as it came into view, her face. That dispirited Spock considerably more than was logical, although she doubted she was the real cause of the annoyment, more likely just the convenient receiver.

Jamie made no more comments and disappeared into the bathroom. Spock stared onto the brightly lit ceiling, listening to the sound of running water, wondering about – far too many matters.

When Jamie finally emerged again, there was not a single hint of negativity about her demeanor.

"Sorry about before," she said, squinting slightly into the brightness. " _Less lights_." The artificial lighting obediently dimmed. "Sorry about _that_ , too."

"That is of no consequence."

"It's not about you, you know," Jamie continued, not seeming to register Spock talking. Then her apologetic expression hardened momentarily, "It's about that _fucking bastard_ Gary." She crossed the room and sat down on Spock's bed, placing her hand down where Spock's hip was underneath the covers. There it was again. The touching.

Jamie smiled: "You know I like _you_."

Spock shifted minutely away from her, fearing that their closeness would incite further tactile communication. And it did.

Jamie reached out and caressed Spock's hair, twirling her fingers in it. Then she gently traced the contour of her face.

Spock forcibly restrained a shiver. Whereas with anyone else it would have been a manifestation of her Vulcan sensitivity to touch and her natural reservedness, in this case there was another reason. One that she did not dare contemplate for too long.

"So, what did you do today?" Jamie asked, her voice soft. And before Spock could react one way or another, she leant down toward her and lightly kissed her cheek. It left no time to even begin thinking about suppressing the fluttery feeling that ran through Spock's body following that.

Jamie straightened back up almost instantly, but Spock doubted she had missed her quiver. Or was it not as physical as it felt? Uncomfortable, she lifted herself into a sitting position and did her best to answer in an even tone: "I carried out several experiments pertaining to my dissertation work." Despite the effort, she could hear herself sounding strained.

Jamie meanwhile returned her attention to Spock's hair, running her fingers through it. "Really? I thought you already had like three times more than what's required," she said absently, looking away and frowning a little.

After a while, she seemed to have reached some kind of conclusion because she suddenly fixed her eyes with Spock's and a grin spread across her features: "Well, would you like to continue?" she asked, her eyes glinting. "With the experiments, I mean."

"I am afraid I do not fol -"

But her words drowned in the mouth that had pressed against her own, boldly and confidently. She froze, feeling their lips touch, hers hot and rigid, Jamie's fresh and pliant. Her brain shut down and she could not bring herself to think or move or do anything at all.

The contact was broken as abruptly as it had began, Jamie simply pulled away and now it was _her_ turn to appear nervous, "Uh, sorry. I guess that was a little … yeah," she mumbled and made as if to get up and leave.

Spock brought herself back to her senses and seized the only opportunity she may ever have before it was too late: "Wait."

Jamie dropped back down on the bed and faced her friend, with obvious curiosity and what Spock hoped was renewed interest in the progress of the situation. Spock hesitated for a little longer and then self-consciously brought her hands to Jamie's face and closed the distance between them.

So their lips connected once more, but this time it was fueled by mutual responsiveness. Not to mention eagerness and – pervasiveness. Their tongues met and they sucked and tasted each other. The kiss was long and thorough are very wet and Spock thought it would last forever – or _hoped_ it would last forever.

But all things end and so did this one, however unique and unreal it seemed to Spock.

Then they just sat there, gazing at each other. Spock had again no idea what to do – or think or feel, for that matter – the experience had been too intense.

"Well, I guess we've had it coming," Jamie made a fake little laughing sound and quickly got up and hurried to her own bed where she began distractedly wrapping herself into the sheets, "Sooner or later we would have smooched anyway. Might've as well gotten it out off the way, right? _Lights off_. Good night."

There were no 200 minutes of sleep that night; not even 20 or 2. Spock's mind was far too preocuppied with dozens of contending emotions which she could not manage to sort out, let alone shut down. All the same, there were three particular inquiries she kept posing to herself and could not arrive at a definite answer to:

Would it ever happen again?  
Would Jamie, all of whose actions had been so confusing and contradictory, reciprocate her desire?  
And would Gary, Jamie's current boyfriend, surrender his claim for her?

At that time, Spock had no way of knowing that the Future held the least desirable turn of events because _it_ would not, _she_ would not - and although _he_ would, others would take his place.

 

**#4**

The door to the Captain's quarters slid open and a dark figure entered, glancing around to ascertain there was nobody else in the room.

Suddenly the figure straightened, listening intently: there were footsteps echoing in the corridor.

"Something wicked this way comes!" it muttered and swiftly hid behind a thick red drapery.

Soon after, the door slid sideways again and two people entered.

"Something is rotten on this ship," the one in blue complained.

"To me Enterprise is a prison," the one in gold agreed.

"Why then your ambition makes it one. 'Tis too narrow for your mind."

Then the two of them matter-of-factly headed for the bed and sat down on it, facing each other. They joined their hands.

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" the gold one declaimed heartfeltly, looking into the other one's brown eyes. "Thou art more lovely and more temperate -"

Alas, the romantic moment was not to last. Having decided that his target was sufficiently distracted, the assassin leapt out from his hiding place, his cloak billowing open and revealing a red tunic underneath.

"Off with his head!" he bellowed, undermining his statement by waving a short dagger which was not the most ideal instrument for such a procedure.

He nonetheless launched at the gold one and stabbed him.

"Et tu, Scotty?" the victim wondered with some bitterness and died. The red one laughed triumphantly.

"O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!" the blue one lamented.

"Out, damn'd Spock! Out, I say!" the red one ordered him, indicating the door. Whether he really intended to spare him or not, he clearly had not expected the swiftness with which the blue one extracted the dagger from the gold one's chest and thrust into the red one's.

"I am slain!" the red one announced and collapsed, dead.

Seeing no reason for continuing his existence without his friend and lover, the blue one took hold of the dagger once more:

"O happy dagger! This is thy sheath; there rust, and let me die." He declared and let the weapon sink into his heart.

And that was it for that night.

 

**#5**

On Stardate 2273.21, the Federation exploratory starship U.S.S. Endeavour entered the orbit of a small planet named Erratis IX. It was covered predominantly by tropical grasslands and its inhabitants were, according to the Compendium, peaceful and primitive. Despite the early stage of its technological development, Erratis was a member of the Federation.

For one prosaic reason: it held vast resources of Kryptonite, one of the hypersonic series elements. It was not being mined there yet because of the planet's faraway location, but empires had been built and galaxies colonized by using the simple art of thinking ahead.

"We have been ordered to beam down to Erratis IX to attend a brief diplomatic meeting with its rulers to ascertain that their friendly relations toward the Federation have not been modified during the 132.72 Erratis years the planet spent in isolation from any external contact," Captain Spock recorded into his log, "we are, however facing one significant complication: none of our crew speaks the Erratian language and the universal translator cannot be applied due to the specific compartmentalization of the Erratian brain which dilutes the brainwaves and prevents them from being analyzed."

*

"We're just gonna have to use some kind of sign language, I suppose," Spock's First Officer James T. Kirk suggested, as the two of them made their way through the tall yellow grass toward the Erratian village. As their purpose was merely to meet the elders and assure them that the Federation still existed and had not forgotten about Erratis, they were the only members of the landing party.

It seemed the only problem they would have to deal with was communication difficulties, which looked laughably trivial compared to some of the downright catastrophic scenarios they had been involved in in the past.

And even this trivial problem disappeared completely when one of the half-human-sized, six-armed, three-eyed, bluish beings that had come out to welcome them stepped forward and produced from what appeared to be his mouth broken, most strangely accented but still quite understandable words in the Federation's lingua franca: "Daddy of Daddy of I work with you Feds guys. Daddy of Daddy learn Standard. Daddy learn Standard. I learn Standard."

Soon afterwards, Spock and Kirk found themselves crammed in a small hut, sitting down on the floor very close to each other and engaging in a diplomatic small-talk with the 'Eldest of Eldest.' The Standard-speaking Erratian who had introduced himself as 'Huiiiiiii' functioned as an interpreter.

" _Ask them what their names are and who their fathers' were,_ " the Eldest of Eldest said to Huiiiiiii.

"Who you guys be. Who you guys Daddy be," Huiiiiiii translated.

"I am the Captain of the starship U.S.S. Endeavour which was commissioned to undertake a second five-year mission under the supervision of Starfleet and in the service of the United Federation of Planets -" Spock began but then Kirk interrupted him:

"You do realize he won't understand a word you're saying?"

"I am exerting my best effort to deliver accurate information to the Eldest of Eldest. It cannot be done in any alternative manner."

"Yeah it can. If you just said 'doing' instead of 'exerting', 'say' instead of 'deliver' -"

"I cannot agree with your reasoning. It is quite necessary to select words which _precisely_ convey the desired meaning or I would be deliberately misleading my conversation partner."

"Can't you hear the way he speaks? He doesn't know any of your big words, he won't have a clue of you're chattering on about."

"First of all, the fact that his ability to _express_ himself in Standard is rudimentary does not automatically preclude the possibility of his having a considerably more advanced grasp of the language as a passive listener. Secondly, I refuse to relay to any one a consciously distorted message, however minor or otherwise the alteration may be."

Kirk regarded Spock for a moment and then, with an air of having concluded that it was a lost case said: "Alright, Captain, do as you like. Just let me speak to him as well so I can give him a gist of what the hell you're saying."

"I do not believe that ..."

As Spock and Kirk continued to exchange their opinions, the Erratians observed them with interest. After all, it did not happen every day that weird-looking overgrown aliens appeared out of nowhere behind your house, invited themselves in and then pretty much ignored you in favor of their own little argument.

" _What are they talking about? Didn't they come to speak to me?_ " the Eldest of Eldest asked Huiiiiiii after a while.

" _The pointy-eared one doesn't speak Standard very well. He keeps using words from different languages_." Huiiiiiii replied.

" _Can't that interplanetary organization of theirs bother to send competent people? What about the other one?"_

_"He speaks a little better but he has serious problems with grammar."_

_"Dear Gods, what amateurs. Oh well, just get them talk to us for a change so we can get this over with._ "

"You guys talk with Eldest Eldest?" Huiiiiiii addressed the arguing duo. They quickly stopped talking and turned to face him.

"I apologize but a there was a matter of concern regarding the communication method we needed to address first. Please proceed with your inquiries and we shall attempt to reply to the best of our ability," Spock said.

"Sorry. Ask questions now," Kirk said.

" _They say that they are ready to talk to us now,_ " Huiiiiiii translated for the Eldest of Eldest.

" _Ask them about their names and the names of their fathers, then."_

"Who you guys be? Who you guys Daddy be?" Huiiiiiii repeated the question he'd attempted to open the discussion with.

This time, Kirk hastened to answer: "This is the Captain, his name is Spock. His Daddy's name is Sarek. I am James Kirk, his friend, and my Daddy's name is George Kirk."

" _Pointy-ears is called 'Is' and the other one's 'Am'. I didn't catch the fathers' names, shall I ask again?"_

_"Never mind. Ask them whether the agreement between us and their organization still stands," the Eldest of Eldest cut straight to the chase._

_"Deal with Feds guys good?"_

At that, Spock launched into a long-winded, very detailed description of the Federation's plans for the future and reassured the Erratians that their planet was definitely still a member, albeit an inactive one, and that their time to shine would come. With Kirk's help and Huiiiiiii's imagination the general sentiment ('yeah, deal good') was conveyed at last and that might have been the end of it, hadn't it been for the Erratians natural hospitality.

"You stay night? Night soon. Day short."

Spock and Kirk looked at each other, but if they weren't too excited about spending a night in a tiny unsanitized hut, they didn't let it show.

"That would be a pleasure," Spock said.

"Yes," Kirk said.

" _They agreed._ " The Eldest of Eldest was clearly satisfied with the quick answer.

" _Ask them whether they want to sleep in the same hut or they'd rather if each had his own._ "

"You guys sleep together?"

"No!" said Spock.

"Yes," said Kirk.

They exchanged a look. And then another.

"I think he was just asking if we wanted to sleep in the same place, Captain," Kirk explained.

"Indeed? The expression appears at the least ambivalent. You yourself repeatedly inform me of how important it is to heed secondary meanings -"

"Yeah, I know, but judging from the level of his Standard I don't suppose he's quite there yet," Kirk cut off him. "I think he is pretty literal."

"Ah ... yes. That is a logical conclusion," Spock conceded at last and then turned to Huiiiiiii: "Yes."

" _Yes,_ " Huiiiiiii translated.

" _What took them so long to decide?_ " the Eldest of Eldest asked.

" _I'm not sure, but they sure do keep arguing like an old married couple._ "

" _Yes, you're right, it looks like that. Well, now that I think about it, there obviously is sexual tension between them. It'd be interesting to find out what their relationship is," the Eldest of Eldest mused. Then his curiosity got the better of him: "Actually, go ahead and ask them. Be subtle._ "

"'Is' like 'Am'?" Huiiiiiii asked.

"I apologize but I do no understand, your wording was most incomprehensible. Could you please rephrase you question?" Spock said.

"What's like what?" Kirk said.

Huiiiiiii pondered their answers for a moment and then presented his best guess to the Eldest of Eldest:  
" _They are in love with each other but it's complicated."_

" _Why? Doesn't their culture accept homosexuality?"_ the Eldest of Eldest wondered.

"Feds not like you guys?" Huiiiiiii wondered in Standard.

The question seemed to render Spock momentarily speechless – he couldn't see why anyone would doubt the Federation's satisfaction with their faithful service - so Kirk replied:

"Sure they like us, they wouldn't let us fly around in starship if they didn't."

" _They have their culture's blessing._ " Huiiiiiii passed on the information.

" _Does that mean they are married?_ " The Eldest of Eldest asked, intrigued.

"You guys legit?"

"Of course!" Spock and Kirk said in unison, Kirk becoming also bothered by the sudden lack of trust from the Erratian side.

The conversation ended soon after, with Spock taking off his Starfleet badge and ceremoniously presenting it to the Erratians. They carefully inspected it, taking it for a symbol of their marital commitment.

Later, the two visitors were shown to the hut where they were about to spend an uncomfortable night trying to sleep on a rug laid right over the hard ground without much room to stretch. They lay with their backs to each other as there really was no reason to do otherwise.

The Erratians, however, were left with quite a different impression.

 

**... and The One Universe:**

"Spock, are you asleep?"

The whisper was amplified by the hollowness of the cave. For that was the place where they'd found shelter after the shuttlecraft crashed and a magnetic storm prevented them from being beamed back up to the Enterprise.

Two years had passed since the Narada Incident and many things changed in that span of time: their relationship progressed from that of necessary collaboration in dire circumstances through efficient professional partnership to rather close, if still competitive, friendship. This latest arrangement entailed gaining good knowledge of each other's individual idiosyncrasies. Like for instance the ability to spot the difference between normal and feigned pattern of breathing.

"Spock, are you _faking_ sleep?"

There was a rustle of a sleeping bag as the convicted party turned to lie on his back and a low voice echoed throughout the cave: "No ... but I _am_ attempting to sleep."

"Ok. Sorry."

Silence ensued. But sleep did not. They both lay still, staring into the impenetrable blackness all around and listening to the eerily resounding _ploink ploink ploink_ of dripping water coming from somewhere deep within the cave.

After some time a very low whisper cut through the silent darkness:

"Spock, unless you're asleep, would you please pass me the flashlight?"

There was no answer, but instead the rustling again, then the sound of a zipper as the other individual freed himself to reach out, a faint beep of an electronic device starting up and finally, a circle of yellow light fell onto the rugged roof of the cave. The illuminated chinks in the rock and the protruding stalactitic formations seemed large and frightening. The pool of light moved away, traveling slowly across the ceiling until it rested upon a comparably flatter part.

Dark ominous shadows suddenly loomed in the lit circle – until their contours came into focus and it became apparent that they were only fingers. Two of them straightened and the rest folded into a loose fist, creating the shape of deformed scissors or perhaps even a disfigured animal head with long ears.

"Look!" one of the voices instructed the other with some enthusiasm. "Now guess what it is."

"Shadows of your fingers projected by the flashlight onto the rock surface above?"

"Well, yeah, but what's this shape? What animal?" The two outstretched fingers in the shadow display stirred impatiently.

The question was followed by what was presumably quiet contemplation and then at last a hesitant answer:

"This shape does not recall any creature, living or dead, that I am familiar with."

"Sure it does! It's a rabbit! I mean, you must have seen a rabbit before – at least in ZOO or something? Ok, never mind, try this one." The circle of light twitched as the flashlight was repositioned so that its holder could use both of his hands and – on the lit-up spot there appeared a shadow of wrists laid across each other with thumbs hooked and the remaining fingers spread out like a fan. "Don't tell me you can't tell what this is."

"A … cephalopod? With severe genetic malformations?"

An exasperated sigh: " _No_. A _bird_. Don't you have any imagination? You need it to play this game."

"Do I? Does the essence of success in this endeavor not lie in one's competence to recreate a real form with his hands in such a manner that necessitates _minimal_ imaginative input from the observer to correctly discern what it is intended to portray?" A short pause to let the elaborate argument sink in and then: "Please hand me the flashlight."

The illuminated circle swayed and broadened as the source of light shifted and there was a muffled thud and it disappeared completely for a moment -

"Sorry, I didn't realize you were so close."

"That is of no consequence."

\- and then it reappeared on the cave roof and centered onto the least rugged place. Shadows of fingers once again came into view and they effortlessly formed into the desired shape. This time there was no doubt as to what it was supposed to be.

" _This_ is a rabbit."

"Wow, that's pretty cool, how did you do it?"

"And _this_ is a ..." the inquiry was ignored in favor of resettling the flashlight and using both hands to outline the distinctive graceful form of a - "bird."

The sentiment of 'and that's how you do it' was far too obvious to be uttered aloud.

Silence that may have been awed as well as affronted followed, disrupted only by a soft click as the flashlight was switched off and everything sank back into complete darkness. Then, finally, a reaction came:

"You just have to always try and beat me in every single fucking little thing, don't you." No sign of bitterness in the tone, it was mere stating of facts. Although it was probably meant only as a rhetorical question, it _did_ earn an answer:

"Yes."

Afterwards, nothing was said for a long time. Minutes passed.

_. . . ploink . . . ploink . . . ploink . . ._

The water dripped. And then it dripped some more, at the same long, steady intervals.

_. . . ploink . . . ploi -_

"Is it just me or do you also feel … restless?"

"Well, it is true that I … cannot deliberately bring myself to sleep and that is most unusual for me. Is it the same case with you?"

"Yeah."

_. . . ploink . . . ploink . . . ploink . . ._

"It must've been the berries."

"The berries? You said you recognized them."

"I did, but – I know the kind that grows on Earth. It could've been imported here but it could as well be a totally different species that just looks the same."

"That is sound reasoning. Whether they did or did not affect us in this unforeseen manner, it was highly inconsiderate to ingest them."

"Yeah."

_. . . ploink . . . ploink . . . ploink . . ._

"They really have weird effects – the berries. If it's them."

"They may have contained a psychoactive substance that influences our consciousness. As I said I am experiencing problems in controlling functions I am normally able to master quite efficiently. For instance I seem to ..."

"What?"

No answer.

"Spock, what?"

"... This all is a condition of increased alertness. We simply need to wait until it passes."

"Yeah."

_. . . ploink . . . ploink . . . ploink . . ._

"Like on me, one of the effects is that I'm getting all kinds of crazy thoughts."

"Indeed?"

"Indeed."

"Would you like me to give you the flashlight again so you can entertain yourself to pass the time?"

"Nah, I think I'm past entertaining myself with shadow animals, Spock."

"Indeed?"

"Indeed." There was a pause and then the same voice asked: "Are you smiling now?"

"Why would I do a thing so uncharacteristic for someone who observes the Vulcan tradition of emotional suppression?"

"I don't know … it's always fun to think what people do at night when nobody can see them."

"Is it? Well, what do _you_ do?"

"Oh, you don't wanna know. Besides that's not the point. You just have to guess. Use your imagination."

"You implied that I was not in possession of one."

"I guess I must have been just teasing you then, Spock. I just hope your imagination isn't as vivid as mine is at the moment, 'cause it looks like I'm on the verge of – or actually, never mind."

"I am afraid I do not follow you."

"You're not supposed to, either."

_. . . ploink . . . ploink . . . ploink . . ._

_"There are other things besides playing with a flashlight we could do, you know. And we won't need light for them."_

"Given that both of us still appear to be suffering from the fruit's arousing effects I would be amenable to such a proposition. What activity in particular did you have in mind?"

A soft laugh vibrated through the stillness of the cave: "Sometimes I honestly don't know whether you do this kind of thing on purpose or not."

"Would you care to be more specific?"

"No, I don't think I would, I don't wanna embarrass myself in case you didn't mean it."

"Meant what?"

"Spock, you really are the last person in the Universe to be persuasive in playing stupid so please don't do it."

"I take that as a compliment."

"That's what it is."

_. . . ploink . . . ploink . . . ploink . . ._

"Jim, would you agree that tomorrow shall be a particularly demanding day as we will most likely be beamed back up to the Enterprise where many urgent responsibilities will no doubt have accumulated in our absence and these will require our immediate attention?"

"Yeah, definitely."

"And do you also agree that we should do our utmost to remove whatever complications may compromise our tomorrow's working efficiency?"

"Yes."

"And do you also believe that there exists an easy way to alleviate the effects of the berries that prevent us from enjoying a proper night's rest?"

"Yes."

"It is then necessary that I inform you of having derived a logical solution to our current situation."

"Have you? What is it?"

"It is in fact rather elementary. I am astonished by your not having suggested it sooner. Unless, of course, you have been manipulating me throughout the whole course of our sojourn in this dark and secluded place into being all but forced by circumstances to present it myself."

"I would _never_ manipulate you into something you didn't want. I'm hurt and confused. Also intrigued."

"For a reason that transcends the scope of my comprehension, you clearly are very keen on my making the first move, so to speak."

"Well, I could argue that there already was a first move, or actually a series of them, in the past, but I don't really feel like wasting any more time talking."

"In that case, please kiss me."

No words were spoken for a long while following that. Instead, there was a lot of rustling, shuffling, unzipping, heavy breathing and moaning. Somewhere in the distance, the water continued to persistently drip, but nobody listened to it anymore. The various new sounds echoed throughout the cave, filling the cold and dark emptiness with unprecedentedly lively impressions of passion and affection.

After an extended period of time, though, the noises died away and silence enveloped everything once more.

Then one of the voices, subdued but contented, spoke up: "Mutually satisfactory though I surmise this activity was, I wonder who the winner is."

"What?" the other voice sounded just sleepy.

"You said – and I quote – that I 'always try to beat you in every single fucking little thing'."

A chuckle followed. "Oh, that. Well, I guess I win this round since I got you on the age old trick with the fake aphrodisiac."

"Jim, do you really think I would allow you to consume an unfamiliar fruit?" Furthermore, I assure you that I am perfectly aware of what Earth's blueberries look like, how they taste and especially that the only influence on one's sexual desire they may have consists in providing energy in the form of fructose."

The reply was a little belated and not very eloquent: "Huh." And after another moment a conciliatory: "But it got you to do what I wanted you to do, so whatever, it's a tie."

"Very well. Although you underestimated the level of my insight into your deceptive maneuvers, I must acknowledge your undeniable prowess in the enjoyable activity they ultimately resulted in."

"I take that as a compliment."

"That is what it is."

There was a yawn and a sigh and then the crackling of the nylon fabric of the sleeping bags as the two of them snuggled together. Then everything was quiet for a while, until:

"Jim, are you asleep?" It was supposed to be a mere whisper, but the cave's acoustics didn't let it.

"Um, no, but maybe I would like to be?"

"There is just one last thing."

"Does it have anything to do with you being all smug over how smart you are?" The other voice sounded tired.

" _No._ This is intended to please you."

"Oh, Ok."

There was a rustle and an electronic beep and once more, the yellow pool of light fell onto the ceiling of the cave. Shadows of long slender fingers appeared in it and proceeded to intertwine into an interesting formation.

"This is my suggestion. For our next intercourse," its creator commented.

"Ah," the other voice responded with clear appreciation. "Well I must say that's _very_ imaginative."


End file.
